Free Willoughby's Return by Jane Odiwe Page A

on them all at Barton soon. Allenham and the Willoughbys were only mentioned at the last, as an aside, written in such a way as an old acquaintance might send to another of long standing. But William knew very well the intentions behind it. Marianne had been upset by her trip to Exeter, that was clear, and he must now find a way to restore the equilibrium. Hopefully, the coming ball would be enough to divert Marianne's attention and it would be some time before either of them needed to go as near as Bartonor Exeter. There would be no opportunity for meeting the Willoughbys, for which Colonel Brandon felt much relieved.
    “We are to drive over to Whitwell tomorrow, at Hannah's invitation,” he began, glad for an opportunity of a new subject for discussion and one he thought would intrigue his wife enough to divert her attention entirely. “She would like us to be introduced to Henry before the ball. I have accepted on our behalf.”
    Marianne was pleased that the conversation had moved on. She smiled her assent far more readily than she would have done in normal circumstances, feeling quite mollified towards her sister-in-law, and was almost generous in her praise of that lady, proclaiming she was most desirous to see her again.
    They were coming to the end of their meal; the musicians performed their last song to rapturous applause from their audience and retired from the scene, leaving Marianne and her Colonel in the soft gloom of the evening. They sat in silence. The candles on the table cast their golden haloes over Marianne's creamy skin, lighting up her eyes to twinkle like nuggets of black jet. Marianne studied William's countenance. He still looked grave and appeared to be somewhere else, lost in thought.
    “He looks so sad,” she thought, “but he has always had a melancholy air about him. Mrs Jennings used to say it was because of his broken heart, though at one time I really believed that I had mended the break. Perhaps he regrets not running a sword through Willoughby when he had the chance. I do not know, but I wish he would come back to me.”
    She stared at him, forcing him to look at her, and when she was sure that she held his permanent regard, she laughed in her most endearing way, before promptly blowing out the candles. Rising deftly, she went to stand before him, so that she could beadmired with greater ease. Marianne bent toward him to whisper in his ear. “I have a present for you, my love,” she whispered, “but, alas, I am very remiss. I have forgotten to bring it with me. Do you think you could bear the inconvenience of accompanying me to my chamber to receive it?” She stroked his face with her slender fingers and caressed the curls at the nape of his neck. “Would you oblige me, my darling?”
    Colonel Brandon did not answer. He was as captivated and ready to comply as a soul bewitched. He rose, enfolded her in his arms, and felt the pleasure of his wife submit to his sweetest kisses.

AFTER BREAKFAST NEXT MORNING, the Brandon family made ready to travel the short journey to Whitwell. Marianne did not really wish to go despite her curiosity to see Henry and meet him at last. Hannah Lawrence always did her best to discompose Marianne, and no matter how hard she tried her sister-in-law rebuffed any attempts to be congenial. At least Sir Edgar was kind and always appeared to be glad to see her. So it was that just over half an hour later they were bowling up the drive of Sir Edgar Lawrence's country estate, to come to a standstill before the grand Palladian mansion known as Whitwell House.
    James's behaviour had been reasonably subdued during the journey, but once out of the coach he found his energy and liveliness once more. Between Marianne and the nursemaid they managed to ascend the many steps with some semblance of order. The Brandons were shown into a large salon, filled with the most beautiful fittings and furniture. The style was French, the room ornate with gilded chairs, pier